The Dark Horse
by dutchrub
Summary: Something has been prowling the Ouran halls, and the school has foolishly left it up to the Host Club. Will they save the school or end up needing saving themselves? Primarily HaruhixMori, but also HaruhixHost Club.
1. Chapter 1

**The Dark Horse**

**By: Aurorarose13**

_Author's Note: I've been having a lot of fun with this one, particularly dabbling with all the characters and pairings. Took a completely unexpected route than what I had initially intended. Let me know what you think._

**Chapter One**

It was just another day in the Host Club, following another one of Tamaki's harebrained schemes, and yet Haruhi found herself having fun. Of course, she would never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, under any circumstance, ever admit it, but she really was enjoying herself.

When she thought back to that morning, she realized she had no inkling that she would be in the position that she was now, in the clothes that she was now, but then again, the Host Club had a way of effortlessly transforming the ordinary into the bizarre.

-----

Friday had started off with drudgery. The Hitachiin twins ambushed her the moment she entered Ouran High School and whisked her straight off to their first period. Haruhi spent the morning zoning out during their teasing, which unfortunately meant she had to zone out the teacher as well. Instead, she planned her trip to the grocery store for fresh pork for her dinner that night—had she remember to pack her coupons?

Lunch offered the same routine as usual: Hikaru and Kaoru arguing over who would get her handmade bento, which she inevitably finished before they had reached an agreement. Tears and whines would ensue, but Haruhi ignored them as she had trained herself to do.

Toward the end of lunch, Tamaki and Kyouya entered the cafeteria. Haruhi would have liked to claim that it was an unusual occurrence, as all the other female students seemed to think—and indeed it once had been—but now the boys were regular as clockwork, and so she donned her practiced distant gaze and awaited the attentions of the Host King. It was still nothing out of the ordinary, just another day at Ouran. As tedious as this Friday had become, the time quickly drew nigh to when Haruhi had to resume her duties at the Host Club. She gathered her bag and her courage and headed for the Third Music Room.

She opened the front door, and immediately the aromas of tea, cake, and roses filled her nose. Haruhi thought that by now she should have been accustomed to the assault, but it turned out that the Host Club was nothing if it wasn't utterly invasive to her life. She grimaced when she noticed the men had already donned today's theme—firefighters. That's not to say she didn't think they looked a tad dashing in their uniforms (she had always had a soft spot for firefighters), but she knew what was coming next. Bracing herself against the doorframe, the twins grabbed at her waist and arms and dragged her bodily toward the changing room.

"Just once," she yelled, "I'd like to walk to the changing room of my own free will."

"Well, you know," said Hikaru, "we'd like that too, but—"

"We know if you had that free will, you'd use it to walk out the front door," finished Kaoru.

Haruhi sighed, but this was one statement she could not refute. She grabbed her costume and stalked off behind the curtains, grumbling all the way. It wasn't not that she didn't like trying out new styles, but the fact that they always ended up being forced upon her and not chosen by her wore down her nerves.

As she zipped up the front of the heavy fireman's jacket, she emerged from the changing room to join the lineup of greeters by the doors. Kyouya signaled for the club to open, and within moments, the doors were spread wide, revealing a pale yellow ocean of adoring young ladies. Gasps and moans chorused up from the sea, barely a decipherable face or voice among them. Haruhi remarked to herself that every day this school became sillier and sillier.

With the designations doled out, Haruhi seated three of her regulars by a window and brought over some tea; the girls watched her dotingly as she poured them each a cup.

"Ne, Haruhi-kun?" said the quiet first-year, Sachi. "I was wondering, if the Host Club were on fire, would you save me?"

Haruhi ceased pouring and looked at the timid girl. Sachi refused to meet her eyes, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks and hiding behind her long black bangs. Haruhi glanced at her other two designations, who looked at their host eagerly for an answer. "I suppose," she began, "I would try and save all three of you." She paused momentarily to tap her chin. "Well, providing I would still be alive..."

All three sets of eyes widened admiringly and their lips parted for a resounding, "Please don't die, Haruhi-kun! To think you would risk your life for us! You're so brave and selfless!"

Haruhi rubbed the back of her head uncomfortably. "I'm nothing quite like that…"

Mai, a second-year, beamed, "And so modest!"

Emiko, Mai's counterpart and best friend, added, "What a winning combination in a man! Wow!"

Haruhi laughed stiffly and excused herself from the girls, who hardly seemed to notice, they were so busy conjuring up images of their valiant knight Haruhi climbing through the window to rescue them from tortuous flames. She didn't think she could take any more irony at the moment and decided to hide in the restroom.

As she turned to make her escape, she ran face-first into a broad chest. It wasn't the first time she had run into Mori-sempai like this. Last time she had gotten quite the shocker when he had told her she was cute. Granted, it was later revealed he was sleepy at the time, a dangerous situation for Mori to be in as he became unusually chatty and yet never remembered a word of what was said once he had slept. In spite of her usually easygoing self, Haruhi blushed at the memory. She prayed he wasn't tired today.

"I'm sorry, Mori-sempai," she said nervously, scouting his face for any signs of exhaustion. She came up empty, as it usually was when she tried to figure out what he was thinking. Still, Haruhi waited breathlessly for his reply. Would he utter something strange again today?

But she was relieved when he did not. He merely nodded and walked over to Hunny's table, where the small third-year was eating copious amounts of cake and sharing slivers of strawberries with the ladies. Haruhi released her pent-up breath and made her way to the bathroom.

"Haruhi! Danger!" a voice shouted. Before she could even turn to see who had screamed at her, she was tackled at the waist by a powerful attacker. The pair went down with a thud, skidding across the cool floor and coming to rest five feet from the front doors.

Haruhi closed her eyes as pain traveled up her tailbone. When she reopened them, she saw a blond head pressed into her stomach, the face lost in the folds of her fireman's uniform. Still, such a character was unmistakable. "Tamaki-sempai?"

He slowly lifted his head. He was breathing hard, his back rising and falling rhythmically, and she determined he must have flown across the room to get to her. Still, she was unsure why, and she looked at him confusedly. "The door flew open. You could have been hit," he said finally.

"Oh," was all Haruhi could manage. "Isn't such a rescue a little excessive for the situation?"

Tamaki grumbled something about how unappreciative his daughter was, but did not move from his precarious position atop her. "Are you wearing blinders?" he stuttered angrily.

"Hm, maybe I am after all," she mused unconcernedly.

The pair had garnered quite a bit of attention, most of all from the remaining members of the Host Club, who now ringed their entwined bodies. Kyouya stood directly over top of them, his pen scribbling away in his book. Haruhi couldn't tell from the glint on his glasses whether he was looking at them or not, but he did say, "Tamaki, could you disengage yourself from the indebted long enough to check out our unusual patron?"

"Unusual or unwitting?" chorused the twins.

"Maybe both," Hunny cheerfully suggested.

Rather reluctantly, Tamaki stood up, his cheeks a bright shade of crimson, while Haruhi simply looked inconvenienced. He avoided eye contact with the woman he had just rescued and found the perfect excuse in the man pressed flat against the front door.

The stranger was huffing as hard as Tamaki had been a few moments before, and obviously he was in a great hurry. His brown eyes were wide with terror as they strained to see through the walls. He wore the same school uniform as everyone else, but it was horribly wrinkled and stained with a dark liquid from the left shoulder across the chest. His short black hair was disheveled, most of its mass tossed hastily to the left side. He took no notice of the room in which he was.

"Kioshi-kun?" said one of the girls the Host Club had conveniently forgotten to continue hosting.

Kyouya opened his mysterious binder that appeared to contain all information in the universe. "Kioshi Fuchizaki, Class 2-C. His father owns a chain of green grocers and supermarkets."

"Ah, Fuchi Mart!" Haruhi said with amazement. "I have coupons for there."

"That's all well and good, but what's his likes doing in our club?" Hikaru groused.

Kaoru tapped his chin. "Perhaps he likes men—"

"—or he's lost—" suggested Hunny.

"—or he's come to rescue a wayward lover from our handsome grips!" Tamaki added gleefully.

"Before the speculation runs too wild or your heads inflate to the size of watermelons…," Haruhi thought with irritation before saying aloud: "Well, the shortest distance between to points…"

She approached the boy with curiosity. "Um, excuse me? Can we help you?"

Kioshi finally took in his surroundings with obvious confusion. "Did I run all the way to the fire department? I guess I don't know my own speed." He sounded honestly astounded, and Haruhi had to smile, which immediately ignited a burner of jealousy underneath Tamaki.

"If you were only so lucky," she commiserated. Then, noticing the hard look on Kyouya's face, she quickly added, "This is Ouran's Host Club. You look lost."

Kioshi slouched against the door and whimpered. "I'm afraid it's much worse than that. I look haunted."

"Haunted?" the entire club resounded. The women clung to each other or the nearest hosts. A soft murmur of swishing fabric filled the rose-scented air along with the chatter of teeth.

"Yes, haunted. I am cursed!" Kioshi was obviously getting into his character. He spread his hands with great flourish, bewitching all attending parties but Haruhi, Mori and Kyouya, who watched the boy skeptically.

Tamaki stepped forward apprehensively, his jealousy temporarily forgotten. "Did you… step on Beelzenef too?"

Kioshi shook his head. "I don't know what a Beelzenef is, but I do know that an evil spirit has been following me the last four days." When he was sure all eyes were on him and all ears were tuned in to his story, only then did he think of continuing. "It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon."

"You mean this last Tuesday," Kyouya quipped, but Kioshi ignored him, as did everyone else.

"I had just left practice with the Chorus Club, and I was on my way to the car. On a whim, I had decided to take a short cut through the senior wing, only I got lost and found myself before a door that I had never seen. It was all black with a silver number on it, the number 13."

The women collectively gasped, as did Tamaki, and they squeezed each other's hands. "Indeed," Kioshi said grimly. "Still, as wary as I was of the ominous portal, some sinister feeling unfurled within my stomach and threaded its way up my arms and to my fingers. Try as I might, I could not stop myself from reaching out for that glistening silver doorknob, and as my fingers curled around the cool metal, a jolt of fear snaked up my spine. Sweating profusely, I turned the ice-cold orb slowly, achingly slowly. I heard the snap of the jamb unhitching, a dull crack like the sounds of bones breaking. I think my heart stopped entirely as I eased open the door."

Kioshi paused and surveyed his audience. They were breathless, hanging on his every glittering word, and they leaned forward, literally on the edge of their seats. His skin was flushed and damp with droplets of moisture, and his brow was furrowed with worry.

Haruhi glanced over to see Kyouya again scribbling something in his notebook, and she burned to know what he had written. Was he as unconvinced about this boy's story as she was? She had never heard such a flowery monologue in her life and wondered if Kioshi was in Drama Club too. Still, the more she thought about it, the more Kioshi's story reminded her of Tamaki's ramblings, and she decided that as embellished as the tale sounded, he could well believe he was telling the truth. And as much as she wanted to deny it, she wanted to hear the climax of the story.

Her designation, Emiko, urged him onward. "What was in the room, Kioshi-kun?" The girls nodded emphatically.

"At first, I could see nothing. There were no windows in this black pit, nor any light switch, and I had to waste precious seconds for my eyes to adjust. I had thought to run, as any sane soul would have, but that heavy, cold thing in my stomach weighted me to the floor. I stopped breathing, my ears burning to hear something—or hoping, rather, to hear nothing. I wondered how long I had been standing there, waiting to be released.

"At long last, the lights from the hall edged into the foreboding crevice, and I made out a shadowy scene. The room was empty except for one object."

"What object?" a third-year implored.

"A dark horse."

Eyebrows raised around the club and murmurs of conspiracy broke out. "A live horse?" asked Hunny, who was trembling; Mori laid a strong hand on his friend's shoulder to steady him. Haruhi looked over for the stoic third-year's reaction to the tale, but his face was as expressionless as ever, one of the few who appeared detached from the ghostly yarn.

For her part, Haruhi was rather disappointed at the turn out. It sounded ludicrous, a horse alone in the middle of a dark room, but then again, this was Ouran High School, and the students who went here were not only ludicrous but rich—a deadly combination. Her only hope now was that Kioshi would offer some explanation to the strange turn of events.

Kioshi bowed his head so his eyes were hidden beneath his black curtain of hair. "No, it was not a live horse, but a wooden statue of a stallion chomping at its bit. It reared beside me, as tall as I am, a rider-less devil with wild eyes that searched for others to repel. Carved from the heart of an ebony tree, its obsidian skin was smoothed to a shine, but even such a perfect surface can hide secrets.

"His lonely existence called me forward, possessed me to touch it, to try and tame what could never be tamed. I regained the use of my legs, only to find them drawing perilously close to the feral creature.

"It was there, five feet from the monstrous statue, that I noticed the strange red blemishes that covered its back. They were droplets, no bigger than my thumb, sprinkled across its empty saddle and over its meaty legs. My brain could only leap to one conclusion: that this demon horse had killed its rider and now searched for its next victim—me!"

Some of the sillier women fainted, while others peered wide-eyed around the room. There was utter silence, aside from ragged gasps and tremors of terror. Haruhi sighed. She had to admit, Kioshi told the story very well, but she was too practical to fall for such utter nonsense—or so she told herself. Still, the vision of red bestial eyes watched her behind her eyelids, and she realized to her horror that she was now standing very close to the guardian Mori, who was crouched beside a very terrified Hunny.

"A good story," said Hikaru, breaking the silence, "but—"

"—it still doesn't explain why you're here," Kaoru finished.

Kioshi, who had paced furiously throughout the course of his story, was now leaning against a pedestal by one of the windows. He nodded gloomily. "You're right. I was merely recounting the initial horror, but it's funny what time will do with a fertile mind."

"Tell me about it," retorted Haruhi, who knew all too well what idle minds could conjure up.

"Would you like to leave?" Mori whispered to his small companion.

Haruhi waited on tenterhooks for Hunny's response. In spite of herself, she was glad she had two strong martial artists next to her, and if they were to leave, she wondered if she would be able to maintain her cool composure as Kioshi continued.

"I'm fine, Takashi," the blond muttered. "It's best to see this story through to the end." Mori nodded and resumed his silent post beside the young man.

"So," the stranger continued, "right as I was about to touch the saddle, my cell phone rang. It was my driver, asking where I was. I tell you, I was never so glad to hear from that crabby old chauffeur!" Some of the women nodded and dabbed at their brows with their handkerchiefs. "I tore my eyes away from that statue and forced myself out that black door. I slammed it shut and took off for the school gate, never looking back.

"You would think the story would end there, a cautionary tale for young wanderers who think they know what they're doing, but as it turns out, it was only the beginning of my very own _Turn of the Screw_.

"From that first night at home, I had gothic dreams of midnight fields and shadowy pursuers. The thrum of hooves over sod invaded my ears while steady vibrations quaked my knees. I never saw what circled around me in the tall grasses, but I knew it was that damned horse. Every night since then I've had that same dream and woke up in a cold sweat, and I've taken to sleeping with a light on, lest I awaken and find myself in same room with that demon.

"You would think, then, that school would offer a welcome respite, but do not forget that this is the place where I discovered that foul beast. It's proven near impossible to pay attention in class. With no sleep and a growing fear of darkness, I've found it difficult to stay awake, alert, and in the constant bask of light. I've been tired and disoriented, and I live in constant fear of finding Room 13 again."

The twins, who were growing bored, said, "Yes, but that still doesn't explain why you showed up here like you've just run a marathon."

Still unwavering from his tale, Kioshi sat down beside a shivering first-year who looked at him with both wonderment and dread. "And now today, the fourth day of my terror, the worst has happened. Just mere minutes ago, as I was walking down the halls of C-wing alone, I heard two sharp clips, like horseshoes on marble. I whirled around, but there was nothing, just the soft rays of the afternoon sun streaming through the windows and a row of locked classrooms. Convinced that I had just imagined them, I moved on and tried to steady my raging heartbeat, but no sooner had I gone three steps then I swear I heard a horse's angry snort." A few women brought their hands to their mouths to hide their shock.

"All hope of maintaining my composure fled from me, and I ran as fast as my feet would carry me. I ran with reckless abandon down the barren halls, knocking into benches and trash cans in my panic."

"That explains the filth on his shirt," Haruhi thought.

Kioshi was now hunched over his knees, gripping them so hard his knuckles went white. "Twice I slipped and fell down stairs, and twice I hefted myself back up again, not daring to stop even to glance behind me. As I rounded the corner to this hallway, I heard the hooves again, this time charging after me at full speed. I grabbed every door I passed, looking for one that would open, looking for some other sign of life, and that is how I ended up in here, breathless and petrified."

The women flocked over to him, petting his shoulders and head and cooing words of praise. "Kioshi-kun is so brave!" "You're wonderful, Fuchizaki-sempai!" "I'd never sleep again, Kioshi!"

It was then that Kyouya stepped forward from the row of amazed hosts and hostees. He was wearing his scheming grin, the grin that told Haruhi she would be in for a long weekend. She knew what was coming next.

"Fuchizaki-san, the Host Club will do everything in its power to rid this school of this plague and grant you peace again." What sounded like a selfless, valiant proclamation to the customers sounded, to Haruhi, like Kyouya's inner cash register ringing repeatedly.

However, Tamaki bought the line immediately. His well-intentioned, sensitive heart fluttered at the thought of rescuing beautiful young maidens from the clutches of a nightmare. "Yes, we will not rest until Ouran is safe for you fair damsels. The Host Club is nothing if not unyielding in its quest to protect and nurture innocent flowers from the dark seeds of evil."

"That's going a little overboard, isn't it?" muttered Haruhi to no one in particular.

"Worry not, Kioshi-kun, my ladies, Tamaki Suou and his loyal band of ghostbusters humbly accept this mission, even if it means putting our very lives at risk!"

"Speak for yourself," grumbled the twins, but even they had to confess that the idea sounded exciting, at least for a little while.

But the women ate it up. They clambered to offer Tamaki their adoration and nuzzle against him. They extolled their saviors and promised to return to the Host Club forever out of gratitude, and Haruhi saw the bright glimmer in Kyouya's eyes that let her know this was exactly as he had planned.

-----

And so it was that a mere hour after classes had let out Haruhi was dressed in a ghostbusting jumpsuit, opening every door in the third-year floor of the school, reluctantly having fun with Hikaru and Mori.

It was an odd combination of Host Club members, one that Haruhi had never thought would be alone together, but it was strangely interesting. When Kyouya had suggested they split up into parties, he had wisely divided the twins and the two third-years so that each group was equal in ability and the least likely to cause problems. Then the Shadow King decreed he would look after Kioshi and see what he could further glean from him.

Haruhi's trio proved to have a unique dynamic she would never have expected. Hikaru was much more docile without his brother to exacerbate things, and Mori, while still taciturn, was more engaged with her. Both boys were focused on the task, as they must have been eager to return to their counterparts, but they were still up for talking.

The three of them stood at the end of a short hallway sandwiched between a stairwell from the second-year floor and another hallway. Hikaru headed for a door on the left but pointed to a door across from him. "Haruhi, check that door."

She had opened a quite a few doors so far during the mission, but as they wheedled away at all the duds, she became increasingly nervous that she would end up being the one to find the infamous Room 13. Though she nodded, her hand betrayed her by wobbling. Mori, who was too observant for his own good, noticed and reached out for her hand.

The contact took her by surprise and her eyes widened as the hot skin of his hand encircled her thin wrist. "Mori-sempai?" she managed. Her heart was racing, though she knew it had been before he touched her.

"I've got it. Stand behind me." He released her and grabbed at the door.

Haruhi wanted to laugh at his unnecessary show of chivalry, but she found she couldn't because, despite what she wanted to believe, she was scared. Instead, she did as she was told and stood behind him, choosing to look at her boot-covered feet (part of Tamaki's ghost-hunting costume design) and not the broad back in front of her.

"Nothing here," said Hikaru as he closed yet another door.

"Nor here," Mori agreed.

Hikaru noticed Haruhi's unusual position and loomed over her shoulder. "Scared?" he teased.

"No way," she lied, but since she was so used to pretending to be something she wasn't, she was confident she came across as convincing. "I'm just acting as rear guards in case someone tries to jump you from behind." Eh, it sounded credible enough.

"A likely story."

Mori turned around, as pokerfaced as usual, and said in his rich baritone, "I am the one who's scared. I asked Haruhi to watch my back."

The monotonous sound of Mori's voice was enough to make Haruhi want to double over with laughter. The thought of the man being afraid of a ghost horse was so ridiculous, she might even believe Kyouya had a heart of gold. Somehow she managed to wrangle back her tremors of laughter, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not suppress the grin on her face. It was lucky then that Mori's statement took Hikaru by as much surprise as it had Haruhi, and he didn't catch her smile.

At last they reached the end of the hall, and the threesome quietly examined each other in the hopes that someone would know what to do next. Haruhi fiddled the Shinto prayer strips Tamaki had given her before the adventure; Mori leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets; Hikaru busied himself taking pictures of everything (most especially Haruhi) with the camera he had been given in the hopes that it would trap the ghost.

A shrill cry tore through the air and frightened Haruhi so badly that she tumbled into Hikaru, who was just as surprised as she and, therefore, tumbled into Mori. The three of them ended up in a heap of twisted limbs and heavy costumes, all laughing and grumbling at the same time when they realized it was not a phantom horse but a phone. Hikaru brushed Haruhi's leg on his way for his cell phone and blushed hard, though he did not acknowledge his mistake.

He snapped it open as the three attempted to right themselves. "Kaoru! Did you find anything? We didn't either." Hikaru made no mention of how badly his brother had just scared them. "Okay, one more hallway and we'll meet back at the club. Call if you find anything."

Hikaru managed to stand up and offered a hand to both Mori and Haruhi, who were still hopelessly entangled in one another. Once all three were on their feet, Hikaru directed them to the adjoining hall.

The silence was back; it swelled and pulsed in the final hallway, which was as desolate and eerie as Haruhi could imagine. A cursory look revealed no black doors, no Room 13, but who knew what lay beyond the innocent white portals that stretched out before them.

Hikaru, who had grown bored and was anxious to return to his twin, counted six doors in all, two for each of them. Mori was designated the first two doors on the right, Hikaru, the first two doors on the left, and Haruhi, the last two doors on either side of the hallway. Personally, she thought she got the short end of the stick, but she couldn't afford to let her bravado crumble, so she marched back there with a steady face. Mori offered her a sympathetic glance—well, it was more like he stared hard at her for a moment, and she projected sympathy onto the gaze, but whatever it was meant to be, she drew some courage from it.

At the first door, she let her hand fall onto the knob. While she did not feel the same ethereal force that apparently drove Kioshi, she could not deny that her heart rate had accelerated. "Just like pulling of a bandage," she told herself, and opened the door quickly.

The classroom inside was bright and empty, no unspeakable horrors unless you considered calculus on the chalkboard horrific. After confirming there were no other exits in the room, Haruhi closed the door and turned to the last one.

Seeing as neither of the boys had found anything either, she wondered after all if she would end up with lucky number 13. This was the last door, the last place in the third-year wing that could hide Room 13. What would happen when she turned the knob? What would this room reveal to her?


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note**_ _Good golly, I realized it's been ages since I've written in this—to be precise, a whole year! What's the matter with me? Actually, I just got back in to the show (it'd been a long time since I'd watched or read it), but as soon as I picked it up again, the writing bug literally began devouring me. Yikes! Before I knew it, I'd written a chapter in a day, and I'm pretty excited about it. I hope you like it! I have NO idea where I'm going with this story. It's just fun to write. (The Host Club, by definition, is never boring.)_

**Chapter Two**

With a great gulp of air, Haruhi turned the knob to the final door in the senior wing. The door eased open painfully slowly with just the tiniest squeal of the hinges. Still, the soft sound felt like ants crawling through her veins and she winced. The rhythmic thump of her heart flooded her ears as clearly as if they had been stuffed with cotton.

Haruhi gasped. What was on the other side was indeed a shock and horror, but not blood-curdling. "Give him an hour," she grumbled to herself.

Tamaki and the other three ghostbusters were waiting with sterling grins on the other side. Haruhi's shoulders slumped in defeat. "There's no horse," she called to Hikaru and Mori, who quickly appeared at her side to see their friends.

"No horse," Hikaru echoed, "but there is an ass."

Tamaki narrowed his eyes at the redhead, but quickly waved off his presence. "Are you glad to see me, Haruhi?"

"Yes, I am," she admitted flatly.

"Wha—what?" He looked flabbergasted, as did the rest of the Host Club. That was certainly not an answer they ever expected to hear from their barbed-tongue maiden. "Daddy is… so happy. Haruhi is glad to see me!" His triumph resounded throughout all the hallways in the school, possibly the whole prefecture.

Haruhi raised an eyebrow and then casually walked by him. "It was either Satan's steed or you, so I choose the lesser of two evils." There was little malice in her words—there usually wasn't—but it always came out so harsh.

The twins immediately doubled over with laughter while Tamaki began digging a hole in the corner of the classroom in which to bury his head. "About as happy a reunion as we could ever expect, ne, Takashi?" Hunny said cheerily.

"Mm," the lanky senior agreed. His face was stoic, but there was a softness to the corners of his eyes that let Hunny believe Mori did, in fact, find a happiness in their meeting.

Haruhi slumped over from exhaustion. Their ghostbusting garb was heavy and it was getting very late in the day. If she didn't hurry to the store, her choice ingredients would be sold out. "I'm going home," she said unceremoniously with a brief, half-hearted wave over her shoulder. Tamaki and the twins began to protest, but Haruhi was smart enough to have already made her way mostly out of the room. She left through the doorway opposite the one she had come in, walking briskly past Kyouya, who had fortuitously arrived just in time for the family reunion.

Tamaki stared forlornly after her. "Wah, Mom, why does my daughter always abandon me when I need her most?"

"Perhaps you are too needy of a father?" Kyouya offered. Tamaki instantly began digging his hole double-time, the twins conveniently lending him shovels and pick axes.

Even in the midst of all this ruckus, Mori's ears pricked once and then again. Hunny, who was very keen to Mori's subtle moods and motions, immediately perked up. He looked up at his tall companion and said quizzically, "Takashi?"

Mori did not answer, but then again, he didn't need to. Over the rumble of the floor construction, the Host Club heard a wavering, yet somehow still eerily calm female voice. "Um… somebody? Anybody?"

The group tore out of the room the way Haruhi had left, Mori easily in the lead with his long legs leading the charge. He swung smoothly around the corner and skidded to a halt next to his fellow female host. She seemed in one piece, but she wasn't looking at him, perhaps barely even acknowledged his presence but for the fact she was no longer calling for help.

Moments later, the rest of the club appeared behind her, each one checking on her before following her gaze, all except Tamaki, who fussed over Haruhi. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it. "What is it, Haruhi?"

"Lord?" Hikaru said.

"Not now!"

"Uh, milord," Kaoru persisted.

"I said not now! My Haruhi needs me." Stubborn as he was, Tamaki would not look away from his dear daughter's face until two pairs of hands grabbed his head and forced it forward. "Gah!" Tamaki went white as a sheet and his ghost drifted up toward the ceiling before Kyouya coolly grabbed it and stuffed it back in his body.

Before them was the imposing coal black door to Room 13 that Kioshi had described to perfection. The same paralyzing cold washed through the Host Club as they eyed that portal to evil. Each person stood ramrod straight for a few moments until Haruhi said softly, "Geez, I never expected to find it."

"I don't think anyone but the King really did," said Kaoru.

"Should we open it, Takashi?" Hunny asked, but it was obvious from his voice that he really didn't want anybody to. He clutched his stuffed rabbit closer to his chest.

Still, Mori reached for the knob without hesitation until a delicate but firm hand encircled his right wrist. He could tell from the dexterous, feminine fingers whose hand it was, and his eyes were fixed on nothing but those five lovely digits.

"Hold on, wait a minute!" Haruhi demanded. "Isn't this a bit reckless?"

Every boy's eyes widened into giant white circles of disbelief, as though they were hearing for the very first time. "Hm, isn't that rather contradictory—" began Hikaru.

"—coming from someone who single-handedly challenged three brutes on a cliff?" finished Kaoru.

Haruhi pretended not to hear them. "The fact of the matter is Kioshi-sempai described this room very intricately. If it was not here when you guys checked the hall, that leads me to only two conclusions: one, Kioshi-sempai was telling the truth, or two, you three are the worst search time I've ever heard of." Her piercing gaze sent daggers into Tamaki, Kaoru and Hunny's hearts; they staggered backward from the blow.

Tamaki, quick to save face, proclaimed, "Clearly this is the work of some angry spirit, for indeed I thoroughly checked this hall all by myself, and there was no such door."

The twins couldn't help themselves. They slipped easily into a vision of what Tamaki had really been doing in that hallway. They imagined him wandering aimlessly down the corridor, his thoughts alive with images of his precious Haruhi first cowering behind him as he stalwartly banished the evil equine spirit, and then afterwards clinging to his shirt, her chest heaving with sobs of gratitude and professions of undying devotion.

"Tha-that's not what happened at all!" Tamaki screeched, but there was the slightest trace of a guilty blush on his cheeks.

"Pervert," she grumbled, and Tamaki doubled his efforts to dig a hole, this time so deep he could bury his whole body.

Even over the great uproar of the twins taunting Tamaki, she heard the soft, deep voice of the Host Club's personal giant. "Haruhi," he said.

She looked over at Mori and realized to her horror that she was still holding on to his arm. The twins and Tamaki stopped their antics and looked over with a mix of shock and jealousy. Haruhi immediately released him and took a step back. "Sorry, sempai. I was a bit distracted," she added sheepishly and avoided his gaze.

The twins appeared at her side instantly, two ill-intentioned devils boxing her in. Kaoru grabbed her left hand and pressed it between his own. "Here, Haruhi, I won't complain if you hold my hand." Tamaki glared furiously up from his hole.

Hikaru grabbed her right hand and pressed it against his chest. "Oh, Haruhi, please feel the beat of my heart at your merest touch!"

Haruhi could have cared less, but Tamaki was brandishing the pickaxes that the twins had given him in a murderous way. "You unscrupulous twins! I wasn't digging a hole for myself, I was digging a grave for you!" He went charging after the twosome up and down the hallway, unaware that the other four members of the Host Club had ceased paying attention almost immediately.

"What should we do about the door, Kyou-chan?" Hunny said.

Kyouya pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and puzzled briefly over the situation. "While I agree we should be circumspect when opening it, in order to discover what's really going on, I think we have no other choice."

"Takashi?"

Hunny looked over at his stoic friend, who was staring right back at him. To everyone else, it appeared as if Mori were contemplating the question, but Hunny knew instantly where his cousin's mind was. For although his posture was as stiff and rigid as ever, Mori was massaging his right wrist discreetly. Hunny smiled knowingly and immediately climbed onto his friend's shoulders. "Will you hold Bun-Bun for me? My arms are getting tired." The petite senior offered his stuffed rabbit to his cousin, who took it instantly. Mori rolled his head and stretched his neck, which was his silent thank you to the clever Hunny.

Kyouya was distracted by their present spectral problem. He assessed the situation with firmly crossed arms, his gaze hidden by the glare on his glasses. After a moment of studying the door's mocking, polished silver 13, he turned to his fellow club members. "Well, I suppose it won't open itself. Mori-sempai, if you will."

Haruhi glanced back briefly over her shoulder at the still squabbling threesome. "Come on, Tamaki-sempai, we need you," Haruhi said, and the second those words were out of her mouth, she regretted to be the one to say them. The king bounded over much like his dog, Antoinette, and stood joyously by her side—he would have wagged his tail frantically if he'd had one. It appeared he had completely forgotten about the two-foot deep crater he had made in the middle of the third-year wing as well as the twins who had unfairly provoked him.

"Ne, Haruhi, what about us?" the twins whined. "You don't need us." Tamaki turned around and made a face at them.

"I suppose we need everybody," she amended casually.

"Wah! 'Suppose?' Haruhi doesn't care about us!"

Hikaru turned to his brother and sniffled dramatically. "Hey, Kaoru," he managed between fake tears, "isn't it when we feel neglected that we act out?"

"Hm," the other boy said through his own tremulous voice, "I suppose it is…"

They looked at Haruhi with a mixture of sadness and… was that a glimmer of wickedness? Haruhi sighed and grabbed both of their hands, yanking them to her side and unintentionally knocking Tamaki out of his place beside her. All she wanted was to save herself from another hour of their whining and game-playing, and at this point, she didn't care how she did it just so long as she did.

The boys made faces at Tamaki, but their lord seemed to care a little less than he would have merely because Haruhi had said she needed him to be there. The twins rolled their eyes and simultaneously squeezed Haruhi's hands. She didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she made no outward signs. It was just nice to be near her.

Mori looked to Haruhi this time before opening the door. She met his gaze and nodded once. His hand reached out for the knob, and he turned it. The jamb made a soft click, not like the harsh bone-breaking sound Kioshi had described. Nonetheless, the experience was tense for all, except maybe Kyouya, who actually stared at the door rather disinterestedly.

As the door eased open, it was apparent that Kioshi had indeed been right about the darkness within the room. It was like looking into a deep well or the endless cosmos, for it was black as nothingness. The group gasped, as if that dark horse hard come charging at them and knocked the wind out of them. "So dark," Hunny whimpered, clenching Mori's suit collar between his fingers. Mori patted his foot.

Kyouya surprised them all by turning on a flashlight, the subtle click making them all jump in unison. Hunny brightened immediately. "Kyou-chan sure is smart!"

"All this expensive and nonsensical 'ghostbusting' equipment, and the only person to remember to bring a simple flashlight is the only person not wearing these getups," Haruhi mumbled bitterly.

The beam of light speared the darkness, illuminating an empty portion of the room. Kyouya swept the area methodically with the light. He started toward the ceiling and worked his way down, each member of the Host Club family straining and waiting for the demonic eyes of the wooden horse to fix on them. But all their tension drained out of them as the light reached the baseboard and there was not a rein or a saddle to be found. Hunny slouched on top of Mori's head and let out a happy little puff of air. "What a relief, ne, Haru-chan?"

"I suppose," she said slowly, "but that doesn't explain this weird room."

"Or those," Mori added quite suddenly. His eyes were fixed on several hoof prints and scuff marks on the floor of the room, highlighted clearly by the harsh glare of the flashlight. Everyone leaned closer, still careful not enter the room or block their vital beam of light.

"There are hundreds of them," Hunny observed.

"All around the room, as though the animal was pacing," continued Haruhi.

An incredulous Kaoru raised an eyebrow. "You mean something was actually alive in there?"

"Sheesh, we thought this was just another game," Hikaru said, and Kaoru offered a nod in agreement. "Dealing with evil spirits isn't really in our contract."

Tamaki threw up his arms at them. "What contract? Families don't have contracts! You are a member of this family, so that means you will do as Papa tells you." The boys looked skeptically at one another, but said nothing. "Papa" had one hand on his chest, and the other was reaching gracefully into the air—a pose they were all terribly familiar with—and, therefore, frightened of. "We must exorcise this demon," Tamaki proclaimed, "for we are the role models for all of Ouran."

"A scary thought," Haruhi said under her breath, and both Mori and Kyouya, who had overheard it, produced the tiniest of smirks.

A sudden downpour of rose petals erupted, and Haruhi wished they had a forecast for this sort of thing. She knew what was coming next and reluctantly watched the club president. "It's our responsibility—nay, our god-given _duty_," Tamaki began in his most stately, self-righteous voice, "as the handsome, skillful men (and one woman—I would never forget you, my daughter) of the Ouran Host Club to rid this school of its poltergeist so that our dear patrons will be able to rest peacefully tonight!" Hunny was clapping proudly, but he seemed to be the only one stirred to action.

The twins released Haruhi's hands (she barely noticed they had still held them ) and crept up behind Tamaki, who also hardly noticed until it was too late. "Then the king of this Host Club should be the first one to investigate," they said, shoving him toward the room.

"What! What!" Tamaki dug his heels into the ground, making a horrible squeaking sound as they went. He kicked his legs violently and windmilled his arms, hoping to reach out and grab on to something or someone. "If anything, he should be the last one in! His subjects are supposed to do the dangerous labor!"

The twins scoffed and tossed Tamaki head first into the room, where he stood trembling. His knees knocked together and his elbows were tucked tightly at his sides in an attempt to make him as small a target as possible. He looked pitiful indeed, which was why Haruhi walked into the room rather fearlessly. Of course the entire rest of the club walked in immediately behind her. When she noticed, frustrated smoke appeared over her head. "It's like having my own band of lemmings," she remarked indignantly to herself.

Hunny climbed down from his high perch and padded around the room asking Bun-Bun to help him search for clues. Hikaru and Kaoru were growing bored by the second—perhaps if the dark horse had actually been in there, it would still feel like a genuine adventure. Haruhi sensed they were becoming complacent the way some old people sensed bad weather in their joints. Quickly, she appealed to the one person she knew could get the twins interested again in the situation. "Tamaki-sempai, what should we do now." It wasn't really a question, but she knew he'd take the bait and answer it like it was.

"So glad you asked your brave and dashing leader! Indeed, we should purify the room and perhaps perform an exorcism." Haruhi could tell instantly that her scheme had worked as both twins were now smiling, awaiting instructions that would surely keep them out of trouble for a little while and busy enough not to notice her slinking out the doorway. She had plans of her own regarding the rest of her evening, and it didn't include the inevitable cosplay into a Shinto priestess or something equally horrible.

Haruhi had reconciled with the fact that she wasn't getting to the grocery store tonight as she had hoped, but that was okay because now she had another surprising objective enter her mind. Admittedly, she was curious about this Room 13 since it had actually turned out to exist. She wondered if any of the libraries would have anything on it. She was sure her research would eventually come in handy when Tamaki and his disciples inevitably failed at their exorcism. "If we're even dealing with spirits at all…" she added as she entered the first stairwell she could find.

Halfway down the steps, she heard a strange sound. It had been a long while since she'd heard anything like it, but she was sure she'd heard it before. Not since the Ouran student festival, she was pretty sure. And there was that parade… The Host Club rode in a carriage.

She took another few steps before it dawned on her. "Hooves!" she cried and immediately closed her mouth. Her shock and fear froze her on the second to the last step. As those memories flooded back, the sound was unmistakable; it was the sound of a horse trotting.

"Steady, Haruhi," she told herself. "Those Host Club idiots got you worked up. It's not what you're hearing. It's probably some music coming from somewhere, or maybe some water dripping?" She was grasping at straws, anything to will her feet to move. At last, she had convinced herself that it was actually just the sound of her own heartbeat, and she was finally able to move again. As soon as her foot hit that bottom step, the soft trotting became a furious gallop and Haruhi impulsively took off running.

She dashed through the hallways until she entered the second-year wing. She was running blindly, without any real aim, because she simply couldn't form a plan when all she could hear was the thunderous echo of horseshoes on marble. Her breath came in ragged gulps, and her throat burned from the dry air she was furiously sucking in. Every joint was on fire with fear and adrenaline, and somehow, even in the midst of a life-or-death marathon, she managed to think that if she had ever run this fast in middle school, she might not have failed that one semester of gym class.

Haruhi rounded the next corner she saw and darted in to a janitor's closet. She slipped her hand over her mouth to stifle any noise and stood motionless. Thoughts of the haunted, haggard Kioshi Fuchizaki flooded unbidden into her mind and weakened her knees, but she remained resolute; she'd get through this fear as she did every thunderstorm. She had to pretend she was somewhere else, but she simply couldn't. The horse wanted a rider, and he would claim her. She would be the undead maiden on horseback for all eternity. Against her will, she let out the tiniest of whimpers.

She swore that nothing outside of that closet could have possibly heard her, and yet what was she hearing? The hooves had slowed their pace and were again trotting lightly before they all together stopped. She heard a few random clicks of the shoes—"Probably scoping out the area to see where I went," she thought fearfully.

Suddenly, they turned down the hallway she had taken and grew louder and closer as they approached her hidey hole. She saw a thin-legged shadow milling around outside the door, and before she could uncover her mouth to scream, the door jamb popped and the door itself eased open.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note**__: As I was writing this chapter, I realized this was going to turn into a Mori/Haruhi story. I can't help it—I just love that pairing so much. Still, I plan for a little romantic tension between all of the pairings. Bisco's image is just so endearing, I can't help but love something about every couple. I hope you enjoy this, and if you do, please let me know. It's always more fun writing when you know you have a readership of any size._

**Chapter Three**

It was no horse on the other side, but a tall, lanky, handsome man. Mori blinked once at Haruhi's huddled form and then offered her a hand from her half-crouched position, which she readily accepted. It looked horribly uncomfortable, but it felt even worse. As she flexed her legs to stand up straight, her knees buckled for the strain and she tumbled into Mori's open arms, her face landing with an oomph against his long torso, her knees bumping against his sturdy shins. Her hand was still grasping his and her other arm was wrapped around his waist while his rested between her shoulder blades for support. They looked as though they were locked in a highly uncomfortable dance.

Mori looked down at the top of Haruhi's head to see her practically burrowed into his cumbersome ghostbusting suit. She had landed so gracelessly that she ended up looking delicate, alternately clutching the fabric of his suit and his hand as she struggled to stand up. Her grunts were muffled against his stomach, and through the suit, he could feel the spread of her excited breath. Charming and guileless, there was nothing that Mori didn't cherish about her in that fleeting moment.

He quickly righted her and eased back a few feet, but immediately afterward, the cool air struck his body where hers had previously pressed against, and an impromptu loneliness washed through him. To hold her close again without an excuse, without a little deus ex machina… It was a beautiful dream he quickly banished because Morinozuka Takashi simply wasn't raised to expect the impossible. He looked at her solemnly, with not a wisp of evidence of the lavish fantasies that had recently begun to plague him with greater frequency.

Haruhi fixed her enormous eyes on him, and it was easy to tell that she had transitioned from relief to fury. "Why didn't you say something to let me know you were behind me?" she demanded. Mori merely stared at her, but this time the female host was not going to let him off that easily. Natural reticence be damned, this man was going to give her an answer. She crossed her arms sternly and waited.

Finally, even Mori, the person who had practically created the art of silence, grew uncomfortable and offered simply, "I didn't know what to say."

All of the paranoia, every last ounce of it, fled out the window as Haruhi doubled over with laughter. Not since the cross-dressing incident with the Zuka Club had she laughed so hard. She leaned against the wall, her face bright red, tears streaking down her cheeks. It was infectious. Once the irony of what he'd said hit him, Mori couldn't stop the tickle at the corner of his lips either, and he formed a small but joyful smile. He wasn't prone to fits of laughter, but even he allowed a single chaste chuckle to escape.

"No where but the Host Club," she managed through deep breaths.

As the laughter subsided, a grimmer mood set in. Haruhi wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and looked earnestly up at him. "Um, Mori-sempai," she began, "if you don't mind telling me, why were you running after me?"

"You disappeared." Ah, he was checking up on her. She wondered whose idea that was.

"Next time, let me know you're coming. It's stupid, but I was really…" Unwilling to admit her irrational fear, she sought a better word and said, "impractical."

Mori permitted a ghost of a smile and gave her hair a platonic ruffle. Her word choice spoke volumes of her character. "Darling," he thought, though for a second, he couldn't tell if he'd meant it as an adjective or a term of endearment.

"What about Hunny-sempai?"

"He will be all right. As you said before, he is small, but he can take care of himself." Though he didn't look entirely convinced, Haruhi assumed Hunny was the one who had directed him to find her, and Mori rarely refused a directive from his cousin.

Normally Haruhi would have balked, but she could still feel the dull throb of the ice that had thawed in her veins, and she decided not to put up a fight. She could have sworn the sound she had heard had not been Mori's shoes but rather hooves. She chalked it up to imagination and too much time spent with those dreadful Hitachiin twins. Perhaps they were the ones behind this whole horse legend, just like at Halloween with the witch's curse.

There were two ways to be sure: one, do a little research; or two, wait it out, and when it came to the twins and the Host Club in general, that was always the least desirable option. Better to get this whole mess over with sooner rather than later before it ate up more of her free time.

She said, "I was going to the library. Thought I would do a little research on this mystery. Will you join me?" Mori nodded, happy to be of assistance.

And so they walked in companionable silence as it seemed Mori's speech quota had been filled for the day. In the end, Haruhi was glad for the upperclassman's company. It set her spontaneously overactive mind back to its normal disinterested setting. Ouran looked more like the prestigious, somewhat pompous school it was, and less like an impossible labyrinth.

They stopped at an empty classroom where they both peeled off their outer ghostbusting cocoon to reveal their regular school uniforms. The second it came off, Haruhi felt a thousand miles away from the girl in the closet who had foolishly given in to whimsy instead of rational thought.

Before long, they reached the main library in the South Wing just as the bells chimed six o'clock. Haruhi was reminded that she should call her father and let him know she'd be at school late tonight, not like he was usually home early on Fridays anyway, but it was better to be safe than risk Ranka tracking down every member of the Host Club and shaking him down for her whereabouts. Once that was off of her mind, she was ready to get down to business.

The main Ouran library was the most impressive out of the three the school boasted. It was immense; the lower level was spacious and well-lit, dotted with mahogany corrals, leather chairs and lovingly polished bookcases; the balcony was just as warm and welcoming, and it offered one of Haruhi's favorite sections—cookbooks. Any title she imagined could be found here. It was unnecessarily extravagant, but she couldn't argue with its aesthetics—it did invite one to sit and read. Since it was fairly late after school hours on a Friday, there were very few students left there, and the few that remained were diligently studying. Haruhi glanced over them and realized with some irony that none of them had ever been Host Club patrons, not that that was a big shocker.

"Come on, Mori-sempai," she directed and led him toward some computers. She wasn't exactly sure what to search for, but she started with Ouran history and added keywords like "mysterious" or "unusual". Anything that came up, she noted. When she was finished, she gave Mori half the list, and she took the other half. Something about the arrangement made her smile softly, like she and Mori were partner detectives or a family with a shopping list. It was… reassuring to have someone like him on her team. He disappeared between the tall shelves, leaving Haruhi to her own books.

The first few were easy enough to find, all on the first floor in the same section, but others proved more elusive. There was one volume that was as thick as her fist and weighed a ton, and another that was so thin, she skipped over it on the shelf four times before she found it. The worst was the book she actually sought the most. It was a collection of student non-fiction from over the school's long years entitled "Tales from Ouran Academy: A Compendium of Memorable Student Moments". In fact, there was a section in it dedicated school occult stories. Haruhi was willing to wager that if Room 13 or the dark horse had indeed been plaguing Ouran, there would be a mention in there from previous classes. Rather ruefully, she also bet the Nekozawa name would appear more than a few times.

"Of course," she sighed as she approached the case in which her book rested. Her eyes traveled up the section numbers until she saw it on the highest shelf. Its delicate blue and gold binding taunted her. Haruhi looked around for a ladder or stool, but neither was to be found. "I'm going to have to go at this the old fashioned way."

She pushed up her jacket sleeves and delicately climbed up the first two shelves. It was easy enough; she'd done things like this a thousand times in grocery and department stores. By the third shelf, she was within fingertip's reach of the book. Her middle finger skidded down its fabric-covered binding, but she was unable to move the book. She willed her limbs to stretch further, and as she reached up on tiptoes, she was just able to wheedle it out an inch with her index and middle finger. At last, she could grab it. But her footing was unstable, and the added weight of the volume upset her delicate balance.

Instead of tumbling backwards, Haruhi skidded down the shelves on her elbows and knees, each stiff board cracking painfully against her skin and bones. She landed hard on the floor on her butt and sucked in a hard breath. "Ow," she groaned and massaged her tailbone. "Dummy. At least I got the book." Always practical, she shrugged and half-smiled.

Haruhi tried to roll down her sleeves, but she had skinned both elbows rather roughly, and it was too painful. Perhaps there were even splinters, but she didn't have the time to take care of the wounds now if she wanted to get home before dark. She stood up, and her knees throbbed tenderly with the same burn as her elbows.

Gathering all her books, Haruhi headed back toward the two corrals that she and Mori had designated and found he was already perusing one of the several volumes he had collected. She sat down next to him and sorted her books in order of importance. "Did you find everything?" she whispered.

Mori nodded and produced his half of the list with every book checked off. She smiled back appreciatively and tried to convey how happy she was that she didn't have to search through sixteen books alone. "Naturally," he said, interpreting her perfectly. His gaze returned to the task at hand, and for a while, they temporarily forgot each other's presence.

About an hour into their research, Haruhi looked up excitedly. "Mori-sempai, listen." He turned to her, his entire attention trained on her every word and movement. "I found this in a book written by Ouran students. This entry's from six years ago. 'I was running late to French class one overcast spring afternoon. I remember I'd been wishing for a good excuse to get out of class—this would be my fourth tardy. And then there it was. I had never recalled seeing it before in the third year wing. A black door with the number 13 on it.'"

Haruhi looked up at her partner, who was watching her without expression. "The story's almost identical to the one Kioshi-sempai told us, only with a lot less eloquence and flowery adjectives. It even goes on to mention a riderless horse and how for a while he was followed by the sound of galloping." Mori waited patiently for her to finish sharing her findings.

Then something dawned on her, and he nodded once as though he'd already thought the same thing she had. "Well, it's a pretty inefficient ghost if it just chases you for a week and then gives up. If it wanted a rider that badly, one would think it would plague that person to the end."

"One would think," Mori echoed and leaned back in his chair.

Haruhi reflected on something that had been tickling at her this evening. Mori was much more talkative when he didn't have any of the other hosts around to answer for him. Of course, the words "much more" were relative, the difference between two sentences all day and six. All the same, it was a pleasant change, however long it lasted.

From his semi-reclined position, his keen eyes caught a glimmer beside the young female host. "Haruhi."

For Mori, he sounded rather urgent, and she glanced at him questioningly. His long, powerful arm reached right past her as he took one finger and swiped it through a small, dark oval on the desk. He examined it only briefly before he said, "You're bleeding."

"Eh? Oh, these," she said nonchalantly, looking back and forth between both elbows. "I fell trying to reach the last book. But I got it." Mori looked cross, though she couldn't be sure since she'd never really seen him angry; she knew what he meant. "I didn't want to trouble you. Besides, it wasn't necessary to wander aimlessly through the library looking for you. It only took a second."

"A second is all it ever takes," but what he really meant by that, she couldn't tell. He was quiet again and staring hard at her elbows.

Haruhi had totally forgotten about her wounds as her research had consumed her. She was more embarrassed than anything, and immediately stood to search out some cleaning supplies to sanitize the corral. She turned but didn't get far before Mori grabbed her very firmly by her upper arm. The pressure didn't hurt, but it was intense all the same. She froze mid-step as she felt his hot breath colliding with the bare skin of her arm.

Behind her, Mori was down on one knee taking a closer look at the damage done to her elbows. "Mori-sempai, it's just a scrape. I've had worse from riding my bike."

"Come with me." It wasn't an option, Haruhi was going with him.

He steered her out of the library to the empty nurse's station. It was locked, but that was hardly an issue for a Morinozuka with an injured friend. One stiff turn of the knob, a crack of metal grinding angrily, and the door was open. Mori vowed to repair the door (the school would understand—this was hardly the first time he'd destroyed the nursing station's door in his overzealousness) just as soon as Haruhi was bandaged and all right.

Haruhi jumped up on one of the examining beds reluctantly. "Honestly, I don't see why you're making such a fuss."

"You never do," he said calmly. "Which is why it always seems that way." Mori removed some antiseptic from the cabinet as well as a box of bandages. He gingerly lifted her arm and then caught her gaze. She had been watching him silently preparing and had forgotten why they were even there. Truly, the wounds didn't hurt, but it was best to fight infection before it started.

His eyes told her to brace for the momentary sting, which she did. But despite her best efforts, the pain came as a surprise, and she sucked in a deep breath in a way that was so distracting that had Mori not had something pressing to do, he would have lost some of his well-cultivated composure. If his protective wall were gone, something might happen, and even he couldn't say what, but it would inevitably lead to something he'd regret or worse, something Haruhi would regret. It was best to stay focused.

He opened a bandage and tenderly tapped it around the abrasion before giving the other arm the same treatment. Once he was done, he risked looking at her face. She was bending her elbows, testing the sturdiness of his bandaging job. "Dear," he thought this time, still unable to tell the difference between description and nickname.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Haruhi thought for a moment before drawing up both legs of her pants and hissing as the fabric irritated her injuries. Both knees were bruised, and purple-red blood welled up under tiny pieces of torn skin. Haruhi stared bemusedly at his steady frown. "That's the second time he's emoted today," she thought fondly. "One more and it's a tie for most expressions in a day."

She presented her right leg to him for bandaging. However, he just stood there, antiseptic in one hand and two more bandages in the other. "Sempai?"

He faltered. "It's… improper."

Haruhi felt as if a blistering spotlight were shining on the both of them. "Dear," she thought fleetingly before dropping her leg. If she sat back and looked at the situation she had just suggested, she was offering her bare leg for a man to caress and stroke. Probably not one of her more brilliant ideas even from someone with a very low acknowledgement of gender issues. She flushed lightly at putting him in such a position. "I'm sorry, sempai."

Mori shook his head, more so to get rid of the images that had intruded unannounced, and offered her the antiseptic. As she washed her own wounds, he unwrapped the bandages and presented them to her when she was ready.

At last she was patched up, and she was quick to lower both pant legs. When she stood back up, she had to admit, she really did feel better. Whether it was physical relief or just a weight off her mind, she felt lighter and freer than she had the whole day. She smiled warmly at Mori and thanked him. He nodded and then ushered her out of the office. He left a note to the school on the door apologizing for the damage and assuring them he would right it.

For her part, Haruhi marveled at his thoughtfulness. If she thought about it, Mori-sempai was probably the most considerate of hosts. Aside from Kyouya, he was really the only one who didn't share every thought in his head before he had finished thinking about it. Mori didn't speak much, so his words were always carefully chosen and generally meaningful. She admired that about him. She waited for him to finish, and together they walked back to the library.

For the second time that day, they were reunited with the rest of the Host Club, who had gathered around their corrals. Tamaki was frantically pacing, Hunny puzzled over something at her desk, the twins took turns sliding on some wheeled ladders along the wall, and Kyouya was browsing their book selection.

"Daughter!" the Host King exclaimed as they entered the library doors. "We were so worried, weren't we, Mother?"

Kyouya glanced up unfazed, his gaze again hidden by a convenient glare, though Haruhi had the distinct feeling he was examining her strictly. "Perhaps."

Tamaki dove after her, but she quickly deflected his affections. "I'm fine, sempai. How did your investigation go?"

The twins climbed down from the ladders and narrowed their eyes. "The ease with which this girl changes subjects," they commented.

"Haru-chan, where are you hurt?" Hunny said, his eyes as wide as the teacup saucers in the music room. "I smelled blood on the desk."

She shouted incredulously at them, "What are you guys! Sharks!"

A loud shush came from the balcony, which the Host Club skillfully ignored. "Oh, my precious Haruhi, have you been injured? Was it the ghost stallion?"

"Hardly. I just slipped is all. Mori-sempai wrapped my wounds." She presented her elbows for scrutiny, which Tamaki instantly took advantage of, fingering the bandages and twisting her arm this way and that.

While he and the twins were pawing at her, Hunny sidled up to his cousin, who had stepped back from the fray. Mori was again a handsome fixture in the background of the Host Club. This was where he was comfortable, this was where he belonged, not gallivanting through the school with Haruhi. That wasn't to say he hadn't enjoyed it, but it was too dangerous.

Mori knew he cared for Haruhi more than other girls, but so did every other member of the Host Club, and being who he was, he really had no business spending alone time with her. She needed someone more expressive, someone more lively. He would be there for her as called for, and he would be the best friend he could be without disrupting her life, but that was all he would be because that was all her eyes asked of him. He could manage that.

Whenever Mori would begin to grow too passionate about something dangerous, like love, his father would tell him to immerse himself in his training and schoolwork. In time, he would learn to forget the warm, clumsy feelings Haruhi inspired in him, and in that way, he could free her to be with a true companion. It would be hard, but she was worth it. Her ultimate happiness was all that mattered.

Hunny bumped against his legs, thankfully disrupting his depressing thoughts. "You took excellent care of her, Takashi. I am proud of you."

"Mm," Mori replied distantly and then zoned out the crowd to delve safely into his memory of their awkward dance one last time.

Meanwhile, Kyouya continued to scan one of the books from the desk. He said, "I see you decided to investigate Fuchizaki's claim further, Haruhi."

She shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You're not finding much?"

"A little, but I'm finding this mystery is less and less exciting. I mean, how threatening is a ghost that just follows you for a while and then gives up?" She decided not to admit she had momentarily lost her cool composure when she imagined it had fixated on her.

"We agree," the twins said, now twirling in some desk chairs. "Milord, we are getting bored. This isn't a well thought out ghost."

Tamaki instantly grew red-faced. "How can you say that! You saw Kioshi's face! This is a very serious problem."

Haruhi stared passively at Tamaki. "But it's not really hurting anyone. It's not worth our time."

"No, daughter, don't be swayed by these problematic doppelgangers! I have already secured passage in the school this weekend for us. We will hunt down the escaped spirit and set it free. Tomorrow morning, we will gather at Room 13 and complete the exorcism."

"Forget it," she said definitively. "I've got more important things to do. We've done more than enough already. Whatever it is, it isn't hurting anyone."

"But—but! It could escalate to a matter of life and death," Tamaki pleaded.

"It won't," she stated firmly and turned toward the library exit.

"Haruhi." Kyouya's cold, steady voice stopped her in her tracks. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled as she knew what was coming next. "If you don't do this, I will increase your debt by a quarter."

She sighed but did not turn around. "I've got things to do, okay? I'll be in the Host Club as it is until I'm a hundred." She resumed walking toward the door, leaving the astounded group in her dust.

Kyouya, however, kept a level head. His business acumen never wavered. "Perhaps I've been going about this the wrong way. Very well, another incentive perhaps?"

"You call that initial option an incentive?" she deadpanned, her hair covering her eyes in disbelief.

"I will reduce your debt by a quarter. That way you'll only be here until you're a robust 75." When Haruhi finally looked back, she saw the Shadow King beaming with triumph. She had come to recognize those cold, clever victorious smiles.

She narrowed her eyes. "I'll need it in writing," she said coolly. Kyouya responded with a subtle incline of his head. "I'll expect the contract tomorrow morning asserting that I won't be monetarily punished when this debacle inevitably goes awry. No matter the outcome, my debt's going down. Furthermore, once the insanity is over, you cannot find some excuse to immediately return my debt to its previous amount. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," said an unruffled Kyouya. Perhaps he had underestimated the lovely commoner, though he didn't allow her to see his amusement; she had more business prowess than he had anticipated. He made a mental note to never forget that.

"See you tomorrow then." With that, Haruhi turned once again to the exit, and with a robotic wave announced her departure from the Ouran Academy library.

"She's certainly a lawyer in the making," the Hitachiin twins chorused. The Host Club nodded in unison and set about preparing their impending assault.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: **__Here we are at chapter four already. Still having a whole lot of fun with this one, though I have to admit, my attention hasn't been totally focused recently as I've discovered a handful of really great Mori/Haruhi stories, and those are pretty much the Sirens to my sailor. Last chapter I wanted to showcase Haruhi's independence and Mori's gentleness and vulnerability (which I think came across lovely in the nurse room scene). This chapter plays with Haruhi's vulnerability a little. I've added a lot of… fun… this time. Ah, to live through our guileless protagonist! If you enjoy, please let me know. Now reviews are the food for my muse's soul. ;)_

**Chapter Four**

Morning arrived, and the Ouran campus was wrapped in a gauze of delicate fog that dampened the only sound of life, a distant soccer game. The sky was blue beyond the mist, and the air was cool and slightly damp from an early dew. It was the recipe for a relaxing weekend were it not for the accursed Host Club.

They were waiting for her in the main lobby as though she were a patron. "Welcome," they chorused, that irrational torrent of rose petals sprinkling around them.

"I'm not cleaning those up," Haruhi said flatly. She narrowed her eyes at her suspicious peers. At least they weren't wearing elaborate or outlandish costumes like yesterday, just ordinary weekend clothes. Unfortunately, that only made them more suspect to the practical commoner. "What's with the welcome?"

"We're sorry about yesterday, Haruhi," Tamaki, the twins and Hunny proclaimed.

Haruhi instantly narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "What do you want from me?"

"She figured us out, milord," Hikaru and Kaoru whined.

Tamaki put both hands on his hips and glowered at his mischievous subjects. "Of course she did, with you two idiots apologizing. Anyone could see through that."

"With any of you apologizing," Haruhi wished she could add.

"Haruhi," the boys sang, deciding to abandon the tactful approach. "We have something you must wear." The twins held up some ornate ceremonial miko attire. It was lovely and any girl visiting the Host Club would have jumped at the chance to put it on, but they knew exactly what she'd say before she said it:

"No."

"But it's necessary for the ritual to work," Tamaki insisted.

"No, it isn't. Get a real priestess to do it, if you're so concerned."

"Haruhi!"

"No," she asserted, then added, "and I especially refuse to be the only one in some unnecessary costume."

She turned to Kyouya, who watched placidly, as though he weren't even tied in with this group. Such was the role of the Shadow King, which made him all the more intimidating. "Do you have the contract?" she demanded.

"Haru-chan's all business today, ne, Takashi?" Hunny stared up at his cousin, who barely tipped his head in acknowledgement.

Kyouya produced two slip of papers from his ever-present black binder. "Just as you instructed."

"I'll want to look it over," she said with serious eyes.

"I would expect nothing less." He offered her both papers—two copies of the contract, one for her records, as he had expected she would request, and one for his to invariably dissect and use to his advantage. She reviewed it carefully, asking a few questions about various wording, and apparently he answered to her satisfaction, for she signed both copies and pocketed one.

"All right, let's get this over with."

Tamaki and the twins frowned. "You don't have to be so eager to leave us," they murmured darkly.

The third-year wing was utterly soundless, like a great vacuum of time and space. Were it not for her unruly companions, Haruhi would have wondered if she were still on Earth.

They made their way to where Room 13 was. Haruhi hoped for her sake that it simply wasn't there anymore, in which case she could go home and finish some chores and studying. But, of course, it was not to be. The looming coal-black threshold awaited the Host Club as though it had always been there and not just unexpectedly appeared yesterday to complicate her life. Haruhi sighed and slumped over; she prayed this would be over with quickly enough.

"Now what?" the twins asked.

Tamaki gladly stepped forward as the leader and thrust his finger in the air. "We will release the wayward spirit to the afterlife, thus lifting the curse on Ouran."

"Was there ever really a curse?" Hikaru whispered to Kaoru and Haruhi, both of whom shrugged.

"Of course there was! You saw Kioshi-kun, and after what Haruhi uncovered last night in the library, surely this rabid, ghostly beast has beleaguered our peers enough."

"No, I don't think it's the horse doing that," Haruhi muttered under her breath.

"Now in order to vanquish the poltergeist, we'll have to find it first. We'll split up into pairs to cover more ground. Hunny-sempai and Mori-sempai are Team One, Hikaru and Kaoru are Team Two, and Haruhi and I will be Team Three."

"And where does that leave me?" Kyouya asked with a little perturbation.

"Oh, Mom, this leaves you with the most important job of all. You must monitor this door and let us know if the ghost horse comes back."

"That doesn't sound like much of a job at all. More like you couldn't come up with anything else." Tamaki stared at him unfazed, just as Kyouya had expected.

"We protest," said the doppelgangers.

"We should break up into two pairs and a group of three," Kaoru suggested.

Hikaru continued, "Milord and Kyouya-sempai can go together, Hunny-sempai and Mori-sempai can be the other pair, and Haruhi can come with us." He grabbed the hapless female by the shoulders and yanked her back toward him. "That way she'll have two people to protect her."

"I don't need protection," she said in spite of the fact that she knew no one was listening.

"She needs protection from you two unscrupulous devils. Therefore, I will join your group to chaperone and make sure you take no liberties with Haruhi. Hunny-sempai, Mori-sempai and Kyouya can be Team Two."

"Why don't we all go together?" Hunny cheerfully chimed in.

"No, no, no—" Tamaki began again before Kyouya interrupted.

"Why not just split into yesterday's two search parties? They proved effective enough. I will stay and monitor the door as Tamaki suggested." The Shadow King appeared diplomatic, but as always, Haruhi suspected him of some ulterior motives. She trained her eyes carefully on his expression, but he gave no hint of his inner monologue.

Tamaki gave Kyouya his most irresistible puppy eyes. "Wah, but I never get to go with my daughter! What if she needs me?"

Haruhi knew exactly where this was going, and she needed to nip it in the bud before their foolish president wasted anymore of her invaluable weekend time. "If there is any point in which I need you, not that I really expect that," she said delicately and with as little sarcasm as she could possibly manage, "I will call only for you, Tamaki-sempai."

The twins grinned wickedly. "Super Haruhi Placebo Attack!" they trumpeted, but it fell on deaf ears as Tamaki was now rocketing over the moon with bliss. "Good job!" they told her. In spite of herself, she smiled victoriously and then quickly hid it from Tamaki's view, not that he would have noticed, for his eyes were filled with tears of pure, innocent delight. Even Kyouya was impressed with the first-year's talent.

"Then it's settled," the Shadow King announced. "Mori-sempai, Haruhi and Hikaru in Team One and Hunny-sempai, Tamaki and Kaoru in Team Two."

"Did you want to switch for today, brother?" Hikaru asked considerately.

Kaoru grasped his sibling's hands and squeezed. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of Haruhi's company, but it was sweet of you to ask, brother."

"Even her company's nothing compared to yours."

"What kind of thing is that to say," she grumbled. "Cut it out, you two. That stuff doesn't work on us unless you count it as aggravation." They stuck out their tongues at her, but at least they were finding today unexpectedly entertaining… so far.

"Shall we set a meeting time?" Kyouya asked Tamaki, but the King was now in orbit around Neptune, and he didn't seem to hear. Kyouya sighed and asked the rest of the club instead. They decided on an hour of search time before meeting back up whether or not they had found anything.

Team One and Team Two dispersed in opposite directions, Hunny and Kaoru having to drag Tamaki by the shirt collar because he still hadn't regained consciousness.

That left the rather sullen Team One to each other's company. Hikaru seemed more out of sorts today than usual without Kaoru, and Haruhi thought on it for a moment before she realized it was probably better not to inquire about it. The point of her day at Ouran was to get this stupid exorcism out of the way and be back at home in time for lunch.

"Shall we organize a search plan?"

Hikaru shrugged. "Do whatever you want."

"Geez, and you weren't even the one who was blackmailed into being here." The redhead barely acknowledged her and took the lead, half-heartedly checking in doors and just generally meandering down the corridor.

Mori matched strides with Haruhi, a gesture which both surprised and unsettled her. She felt a little off-balance walking next to such a giant. "How are they?" he asked in his cool baritone, his gaze fixed firmly ahead, but she knew he meant her wounds.

"They healed perfectly, thanks to Mori-sempai." From her view below, she caught the fringe of the soft quirk of his mouth—the not-quite-a-smile-but-I'm-smiling-on-the-inside kind of grin. Haruhi returned it with a sunny smile of her own, though he didn't not appear to catch it. Instead, Mori picked up a little speed, and she fell a few paces behind in his footsteps.

She watched the gentle sway of his lithe form in full stride and found herself zoning out. His languid movements had a relaxing effect on her ragged (thanks to the Host Club) nerves. Was it her imagination, or was Mori taller? Maybe he'd done his hair a little differently. Something was off about him, but in that intriguing sort of way, not the worrisome kind. But none of the others, even Hunny, had mentioned anything, so that couldn't be the case. "Great," she muttered quietly, "now I'm hearing _and_ seeing things."

As if on cue, Hikaru raised a hand and his teammates stopped, nearly bumping into one another's backs like a human pool cue. "Quiet, listen." Now this was getting really disturbing. A Hitachiin asking for silence? "Do you hear that?"

They strained their ears to the point of burning. Mori scowled lightly, and Haruhi answered for the both of them. "What? I don't hear anything."

Hikaru shrugged after a moment and continued onward. "Well, come on then. I'd rather not wander around the dusty old school all day."

"I get it, I get it," she replied tersely. "Not like I'm the one who suggested this."

At least yesterday had been somewhat fun and exciting while today was just a nuisance, and Haruhi found her attention waning from the search to things like laundry or her group history project on the pearl industry. Making matters worse was the fact that Hikaru was unusually sullen, and Mori was in perfect robot mode, as if she hadn't been following in his shadow this whole time waiting for him to say something to her. She was mildly disappointed given yesterday evening's events. She thought they had been forming a more intimate connection, as though they were becoming real friends. But with every step forward with Mori, there were always two steps back. It was as though he carefully crafted the gulf of mystery that encompassed him and wanted no one to traverse it.

Haruhi sighed. This was just another place for her mind to wander as she killed time. She glance at her watch and noticed only ten minutes had passed. How badly would Kyouya punish her if she came back early? Because of the contract, he couldn't raise her debt, but by the same token, if she didn't meet her terms, he couldn't reduce it either.

She frowned and must have audibly grumbled because Mori turned around and looked at her with the tiniest hint of worry. Should she be flattered? She thought of her unusual offer yesterday—her bare leg a plaything for his nimble fingers. A hotness grew under her collar, and she was about to make an apology when she realized he wasn't staring at her at all. What two seconds ago she had found embarrassing was now slightly annoying. Why was he studiously avoiding her?

Mori stood as thin and straight as an elegant birch tree, his shoulders back and chest slightly raised as he waited purposefully for something. His neck was strong and blended handsomely into his graceful collarbone, and under her intense scrutiny, Haruhi could swear she saw the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath his smooth skin. She heard her own heartbeat in her ears, and they appeared to be beating in time. But Mori's attention was fixed firmly over her shoulder at the opposite end of the hallway.

Hikaru glanced back at the couple and saw them standing motionlessly in the middle of the corridor. "Oi," he bellowed with irritation, "Mori-sempai, Haruhi. Keep up."

"Be quiet," Mori instructed softly with a raise of his hand, and it instantly put an end to Hikaru's bossiness. The first-year was now watching the empty space behind them with the same keen interest as Mori.

"What is it?" Haruhi whispered to him, but he answered only by leaning slightly over her and squinting at the far end of the hall.

Suddenly, an angry snort resounded off the walls. There was no mistaking its maker. The three teammates huddled closer together and glanced around anxiously for its source. They saw nothing, but they were all remembering Kioshi's story about his flight from the unseen predator. There was no hope of remaining disinterested now. Haruhi could feel her pulse accelerate against her better judgment just as it had yesterday.

They heard the first sound of horseshoes, yet they saw nothing. But the sound was getting closer and moving much faster. None of them, not the trained martial artist nor the carefree troublemaker nor the practical crossdresser, could wait any longer. Mori's hand flew forward and snatched Haruhi's wrist, dragging her down the corridor as fast as they could go. Hikaru had already bolted and disappeared into one of the classrooms, though Haruhi hadn't caught which one.

As they ran, Mori lost his grip as Haruhi fell behind, her legs woefully shorter and her body pitifully out-of-shape thanks to the fact that her "special condition" kept her out of gym class all together. He was barreling down the hallway so fast that Haruhi could barely keep her eyes on his back. All the while, the pounding of the hooves gained and gained on her until she could swear she felt the horse's scalding, wet breath on her neck. She didn't dare look behind her.

Suddenly, she looked up in front of her, and Mori was nowhere in sight. Haruhi panicked, and since she wasn't paying attention, she tripped over her own feet. She stumbled forward but couldn't fall as something snapped out of the darkness beside her and dragged her into it.

"Could this be… the dark horse?" she thought.

But for the second time since this tiresome adventure had started, it was not the phantom horse but Mori. His hand was around her forearm, and he spun her into his chest, her eyes level with eagle emblazoned on his shirt. Her nose was inches away from his abdomen, and her legs were sandwiched between his. Because of the close contact, Haruhi didn't know what to do with her hands but rest them clumsily on his hips, a gesture which she feared would be received as terribly inappropriate because of the intimacy it implied. "Sempai—" she began nervously, but he cut her off, covering her lips with his hand.

With it, Mori tilted Haruhi's face up to meet his eyes. His gaze was steady and serious. He lowered his face to hers until she could smell his breath, lightly tinged with melon and strawberry, probably from his breakfast. For an embarrassing moment, she realized she was hungry. "Hush," he whispered so quietly, she wasn't sure he'd really said it. He removed his hand from her mouth and placed it on her waist along with his other one.

They were in a French classroom from the looks of the posters and chalkboard covered in French instructions. Dim light seeped through the fog outside and in through the windows, casting eerie shadows and tinting everything with a dull gray. Despite its large size, the room felt as tiny as the closet she'd wedged herself into yesterday, only this time she was sharing the space with a giant.

Mori was perfectly still before her, his back flattened stiffly against the wall while his fingertips pressed gently but noticeably into her lower back. His head turned toward the door, and the tensing muscles in his neck added a powerful allure to his already rugged features, the effect of which was not lost even on Haruhi. She was keenly aware of the rise and fall of his chest and how his breath sounded soothingly rhythmic like the ocean. To her chagrin, she realized she could feel the curve of his hipbones beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, and it was unexpectedly sensual. She had never been this close to a man before and actually felt the weight of the intimacy. When Tamaki or the twins held her close, it was usually in jest or because of a wicked prank. This was a decidedly different touch, and the heaviness of it filled her chest, an amalgam of pleasure and discomfort. Thankfully, the gray light covered up the unbidden flush that bombarded her cheeks, but she bowed her head to be sure Mori didn't see.

The clack of horse hooves rumbled outside the classroom door, bringing Haruhi mercifully back to reality. They slowed to a trot as the creature had lost sight of its prey. One click at a time, it neared their hiding place. With some shock, she realized she was not afraid of the dark horse in this moment. She waited passively for their pursuer's approach, sure that it could not reach them in here, and even if it could, sure that it could not harm her with Mori beside her. It stopped directly in front of the door, and Haruhi could here the foul sound of the horse gnawing feverishly on its bit. It snorted once and then once again before barreling past the room, the fierce clop of its hooves dwindling down the hallway.

Mori watched the door for another minute until he was satisfied they were out of danger, and then he looked down at the tiny woman in his arms. "Haruhi." How dare he, she thought furiously. How dare he utter her name in that gentle, hushed tone in a moment like this. She could barely look him in his eyes, which were gazing at her earnestly. "Your heart is racing."

The horror! Mori knew! It was true, but why, why was it pumping this fast and this ardently? She'd been running, and he had scared her, pulling her blindly into a dark room. And then into his arms. And then touching her lips with those long fingers. And then saying her name so delicately. It was cruel and unusual punishment, she decided. Any person would be breathless and flustered under such treatment from anyone. There was no need to call attention to it. Haruhi at least had the remaining mental facilities to blame her newfound blush on her anger at such an orchestration.

"I'm fine, sempai," she said, struggling gingerly out of his grip so as not to call too much attention to how uncomfortable she was being so close to her upperclassman. "Just over-exerted from the exercise."

"I see." Did he sound a tad disappointed? No, there went her hearing again. There was no room for disappointment in a rational explanation such as hers. Mori had done this to protect the both of them; what was there to lament?

Eager for a subject change, Haruhi asked innocently, "Where's Hikaru?"

Mori immediately flung the door to the classroom open, fully expecting the grim visage of a snorting, demonic steed to be facing off with him, but the hallway was empty and still. He turned around, but the other side was quiet as well, as if the whole thing had never happened. But he was sure they were being chased, his carefully honed senses had screamed it. Still, there was nothing to suggest this was anything but an abandoned school.

Haruhi tentatively joined him in the corridor. She, too, saw nothing unusual. "Did we dream it?" she wondered. She looked to her tall companion who offered no explanation. Her cheeks were still warm, but she insisted it was due to her spontaneous exercise and stubbornly refused to hide it anymore.

She resolved to forget the whole situation, as she was sure Mori already had, and concentrate on something less complex. Straightening out her shirt, Haruhi called out for Hikaru up and down the wing, Mori following silently in her footsteps. He stopped her outside of a door to a science classroom and motioned for her to step behind him. He opened the door quickly and found Hikaru asleep on the teacher's desk.

"Are you kidding me?" Haruhi groaned. "We're running for our lives, and this idiot is so bored, he falls asleep." She marveled at his disinterest--only in her fondest dreams could she ever hope to be able to disengage so freely from the Host Club. "I'M SORRY, IS OUR LIFE-AND-DEATH STRUGGLE BORING YOU!" she demanded. She nudged his shoulder, and he opened his eyes sleepily.

"Haruhi? Mori-sempai? Where did you two run off to?"

"Oh, you know," she began hotly, "just taking shelter from a maniacal spirit."

Hikaru sat up and scrunched his brow. He regarded her skeptically. "What? So now you believe in it?"

Haruhi threw up her hands and looked at Mori for support, but he stood back distantly and left the bickering to the two first-years. "Hikaru, I know you heard something in the hallway, otherwise you wouldn't have taken off like you had rocket fuel in your shoes. (Thanks for checking up on us, by the way.)"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, it sounded just like the ghost horse Kioshi-sempai described."

"Sounded like? Oh, so you didn't _see _it."

"Well, no." He gave her a pointed look. "But we all heard it. Isn't that enough right now?"

Hikaru jumped off the desk and made his way out the door, his hands stuffed carelessly in his jean pockets. "Relax, you said last night it couldn't hurt us."

"All I said was that it was an inefficient ghost. It could have figured things out by now. And with so many idiots, the pickings are limitless."

"Obviously it hasn't because none of us is an unearthly jockey yet, are we? Aren't you being a little illogical?"

Haruhi gritted her teeth then let out a groan of frustration. It was just like Hikaru to know exactly which buttons to push. With the Ouran hosts, it was always like arguing with a stone wall. "All the same, I think we should call Kyouya and tell him whatever that thing is, it's coming his way. We know something unusual exists, and we'd be foolish to let it go unchecked."

Hikaru shrugged and glanced at his watch. "Eh, it's time to head back anyway. I can't wait to tell Kaoru how impressionable you've been. This gives me all sorts of new ideas for future games with our favorite toy." In her mind, Haruhi heard a krakka-boom of impending doom and resolved to shut her mouth about the situation for the rest of her days at Ouran.


End file.
